


You're the Criminal (I'm the Cop)

by QueerGirlTakeover



Category: Carmilla (Web Series)
Genre: DEBS AU, F/F, Hollstein - Freeform, debs - Freeform, spy AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-28
Updated: 2015-04-14
Packaged: 2018-03-20 02:12:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 14,608
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3632766
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueerGirlTakeover/pseuds/QueerGirlTakeover
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Everything is great for Laura Hollis, Perfect Score. She's on top squad and her spy career is building itself. Then, Carmilla Karnstein, the last surviving member of the Karnstein Crime Syndicate returns, and Laura's life is turned upside-down. While she struggles to stop herself from falling for the supervillain, she begins to realize that darker forces are at work, even in the heart of the DEBS. And she may need Carmilla's help to stop them.</p>
<p>aka, the DEBS AU I couldn't find and wanted to read.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Mission and a Meeting

**Author's Note:**

> Ratings/Warnings etc might change. I'll try to remember to point it out if they do.

“Let's go!” Danny shouts through the door. “JP is freaking out.”

“I'm coming!” Laura calls, checking the safety on her gun before sliding it into her backpack. Even with the alarms blaring, she hears SJ in the next room arguing with her boyfriend over the phone. Or rather, her ex? Laura can never remember if they're still together or not.

“Laura! SJ!”

She can hear the shout even from the first floor, and pulls her door open, almost colliding with SJ as they both dash towards the stairs.

“Sorry,” Laura says, skidding to a halt and letting SJ scramble down the stairs in front of her. The front door is open, and they can hear the car's engine revving from the driveway. Three seconds later the door is slamming shut as they jump the car doors into the blue convertible.

“Thought you guys weren't coming,” Danny says, putting the car in drive and pulling out of the driveway so fast Laura can smell rubber burning against the asphalt.

“I broke up with Kirsch,” SJ shouts from the back seat.

“Why?” asks Perry. Laura cranes around to look at her, and she seems genuinely shocked.

“It just wasn't working out,” SJ says with a shrug.

“Are you sure you're not just going to get back together next week?” Danny asks, rolling her eyes. Perry glares at her, but SJ leans forward so she can hear Danny better over the wind whistling past them.

“What?”

“Nothing,” Danny says.

“I don't think I love him,” SJ says. “I wanna be in love.”

Laura nods and smiles at her. “I can get that.”

With Danny driving they're at the school in under ten minutes. It's always hair-raising, but after endless complaints from Danny about how slow everyone else drives, they've agreed that it's just easier to let her. She's never once even scratched the car, to Perry's daily relief.

People smile and wave as they walk into the cafe at the front of the school. It doubles as a lounge and is filled constantly with stressed out girls quizzing each other on the best ways to detect tails or studying for their Advanced Hacking exams, which seem to be every other week. Laura waves back. She's gotten used to the attention – everyone wants to know her – but still averts her eyes from the posters on the walls. It's been two years and she still feels weird every time she sees her own face staring down at everyone.

“JP said briefing room C,” Danny says, winding her way between the tables and couches. Laura follows, a little concerned. Usually they receive their missions at one of the tables in the cafe – at a spy school, it's pretty much useless to try to keep anything a secret.

The room is fairly small, only large enough for about ten people maximum, and one wall is taken up entirely by a huge black screen. The door shuts behind them, and the sound of chattering girls vanishes abruptly. Every chair around the conference table is empty, and as they all take their seats, the screen in front of them flickers into life.

“Hello,” says the voice of JP.

“Hi JP,” they chorus back, and are rewarded by the sound of a long sigh through the speakers.

“Don't call me that,” he says, but they just grin at each other.

“What's up?” Laura asks

“Carmilla Karnstein is back in the States,” he says.

“No _way_.” Laura and Danny exchange a dumbfounded look. “I'm doing my end-of-year term paper on her,” Laura continues.

“Who's Carmilla Karnstein?” SJ asks, frowning.

The and time displayed across the screen vanish, replaced by a picture of a girl not much older than they are, and a set of newspaper clippings. “Carmilla Karnstein, last surviving member of the Karnstein Crime Syndicate,” JP tells them. “Most of her family was wiped out in the culmination of a vicious blood feud with a rival crime family, the Spielsdorfs. Following the death of her family she inherited everything, a fortune and an empire. Her family was involved in gambling, smuggling, illegal arms running, theft of diamonds, paintings, but especially books.”

“Books?”

“Old books, books worth a million or a couple million dollars if not more.”

“What're we up against?” Danny asks.

“She's protected by a loyal band of mercenaries.” Carmilla's face blinks off the screen, replaced with a collage of faces. One of the faces is larger, superimposed over the rest. “They're led by this person, who goes by the name of Lafontaine,” JP continues. “It is believed that Carmilla was involved in the plot to steal the Library of Congress five years back, and may have had something to do with the rumors we heard about someone wanting to eliminate Australia.

“Five attempts have been made to capture her, but none succeeded. Three years ago she went underground, complete radio silence. Nobody has seen or heard from her at all.”

“Wow,” SJ says, looking concerned. “She's gotta be something.”

“You left out the part where nobody who has encountered her has ever survived,” Danny says, leaning forward.

“Nobody who's fought her,” Laura corrects, then scrunches up her face in thought. “Or has survived without injuries that've allowed them to be anything more than a vegetable.”

“Wow,” SJ repeats.

“Why would she come back?” Perry asks. She looks shaken, paler than usual.

“Our intel says she's in town to meet a woman,” JP says, and the screen flashes again, this time displaying a series of pictures – a woman smiling, picking up a cat, looking through the scope of a rifle, tossing knives at a target fifty feet away. “This woman. Elsie Cochrin. She's a former sniper and intelligence agent, trained not only in espionage and any manner of killing methods, but in computer hacking and infiltration. She defected several years ago and has been taking freelance jobs and wrecking havoc since then.”

“And we're going after them?” Perry asks, looking up at the screen. “Or rather, we're going after Carmilla.”

“Yes, the Dean herself personally asked to have you put on the case."

“Why?”

“We're top squad,” Danny says, like it's the most obvious thing in the world. “And we have the Perfect Score. Who else would she pick?”

Laura shifts uncomfortably, staring up at the woman. Carmilla doesn't look like a killer, but if there's one thing this school has taught her, it's that appearances aren't everything. Appearances are hardly anything at all.

“They're scheduled to meet at eight tonight,” JP continues. “Find out what Carmilla is up to. Strictly reconnaissance, do not under any circumstances engage with her. Danny's in charge, Laura's second. Your dossiers are waiting in your lockers.”

* * *

 Carmilla twirls a pen idly between her fingers as she taps at the keyboard, pulling up the page she wants. The woman tosses her hair and smiles, then the image loops back to the beginning. To the right is a list of kills, only the confirmed ones, and to the left is a list of known associates and locations. The list of kills is longer than Carmilla's arm.

“How're we doing?” Lafontaine asks, coming up behind her, and Carmilla raises an eyebrow at the screen.

“Fine. Where'd you find her?”

“Same way you find any other killer,” Lafontaine says. “I heard she's available, recently got out of Russia. Returning stateside.”

“Assassin?”

“Check.”

“Background?”

At this they hesitate. “Former intelligence agent.”

Carmilla whirls around, glaring up at them. “An intelligence agent? Really, Laf?”

“ _Former_ ,” Lafontaine repeats emphatically. “She defected, went rogue. Now she's totally unaffiliated with them and besides, she has an awesome record.”

Carmilla looks over her shoulder again at the screen. The list of kills is impressively long. “She's only an assassin?”

Lafontaine rolls their eyes. “Please, you really think I'd get someone who's _only_ an assassin? No, she's a hacker, seriously into infiltration and generally causing problems. Here,” they lean over Carmilla's shoulder and tap a couple keys. Another list pops up over the first. “A list of events attributed at least in part to her.”

Carmilla nods appreciatively, scanning the list. She's heard of at least some of these, though she's been out of the world for almost three years.

“Where's the meet?”

“Eight tonight, at a local restaurant. Les Deux Amours.”

The girl on the screen flips her hair again and Carmilla stares at her for another moment before looking away and saying, “Cancel it.”

“Why?” Lafontaine shouts and Carmilla gets up and heads towards the stairs. “I set everything up!”

“I'm not into blind dates,” Carmilla says, as Lafontaine follows her upstairs.

“It's not a blind date if you know what she looks like okay?”

Carmilla rolls her eyes as she reaches the top of the stairs. “I'm not interested. Just tell her I'm sick or that something came up, be creative.”

The room is filled with crates still nailed shut and lockboxes sitting open, revealing stacks of green bills. People move around, shifting boxes and shouting at each other.

“It's been three years, you have to start dating again and this is as good of a way as any to start. Ease your way back into the market.”

“I am dating,” Carmilla insists, refusing to look at them.

“No, you're not.”

“I went out with that one girl-”

“No, you took her to a talk on Goethe then you lied and told her you weren't feeling well and left.”

Carmilla stops to look at one of the crates, sliding the top open to check the contents. She waves at one of the passing people and points to the crates before turning to face Lafontaine.

“Yeah well we didn't see eye to eye on a lot of things.”

“You can't drown yourself in planning heists and crimes and global takeovers, you have to admit it. You were dumped. And that sucks. But you have to get over her sometime, and I know you took your time off to go to Reykjavik or wherever-”

“Styria, it's in Austria.”

“-but the time for inaction has passed.”

“I _am_ over her. And she didn't dump me.” Carmilla looks around at their audience, studiously not paying attention, then gestures for Lafontaine to follow her through another door, into her own suite of rooms. The instant she closes it, Lafontaine is talking again.

“Yes she did. I got you a date tonight with a perfect girl.”

“There are no perfect people.”

“As close to perfect as you can get in this business, alright?” Lafontaine says in frustration. They put their hands on Carmilla's shoulders and look her straight in the eyes. “And you are going to show up.”

Carmilla hesitates, thinking. “Fine.”

Lafontaine raises their eyebrows.

“Okay, okay,” Carmilla says, twisting away. “I'll show up, I'll do the date thing. I'll be there.”

She crosses the room to her closest and pulls it open, gazing in at the rows of clothes. None of them feel right.

“Carm, you've gotta promise me you'll be open.”

Carmilla looks over her shoulder, already irritated. “Open to _what_?”

“Open to love.”

“Get out,” Carmilla snaps, and Lafontaine turns without saying anything else. Carmilla tries to suppress the smile haunting the edges of her lips and hopes they didn't see.

* * *

 Laura flips through the dossier, running her eyes idly over the pages again. She's been through it twenty times already it seems, but there's something about it that she just can't let go of. All the photos of Carmilla are blurred, half-hidden behind walls or leaves. Elsie, on the other hand, is well known. Her part of the file is somewhat thicker, more concrete. Up until she defected, that is. After that it's all hearsay, but from what she has, Laura can't help but be a little intimidated by both of them.

“Hey, you okay?” Danny nudges her and she looks up, closing the folder.

“Yeah, fine. Just thinking about the meet.”

SJ leans forward, looking intently at them. “Me too. What does Carmilla Karnstein want with a former intelligence agent?”

“What _wouldn't_ she want? I'm only surprised this hasn't happened sooner,” Danny says, rolling her eyes.

“She should be here soon, it's almost eight,” Perry says. She checks her watch anxiously, then peers down through her binoculars. “Look Elsie is here!”

Danny and Laura glance over their shoulders, down at the restaurant below. It's three stories, the second and third floors just balconies around the edge of an open space. Sometimes the restaurant has bands or a piano on the first floor, and the space makes it possible for the music to waft up even to the higher levels. The squad is seated on the third level in the corner, perfectly positioned to see the restaurant entrance and most of the tables while still being unobtrusive. The girl, Elsie, average height, blonde, is led to her table by a waiter and sits down, picking up a menu.

“But no Carmilla,” Laura says. Her attention returns to the dossier, but she sets it aside, firmly telling herself that no matter how many times she rereads it, she won't get any new information from the words. Instead she pulls a newspaper from her bag and unfolds it, burying her nose between the floppy pages.

“Hey, have you seen this?” Danny asks, tilting her magazine towards Laura. “The Dean's picking people for international assignments next year. I'm gonna apply. You should too.”

“I'm not sure they'd let me. I'm not graduating, remember?”

“But you're the Perfect Score,” Danny protests. “You can ask to do your last year abroad or something. They'd probably let you. C'mon, wouldn't it be fun? You and me in Geneva, or Paris, kicking ass and taking names.”

Laura smiles at her. It would be fun; she's always liked Danny at least a little more than a friend, and especially recently her feelings have been getting stronger. But she still has college to finish, and making an international move is a big decision. “I'll think about it,” she says with a nod.

“Remember what I said when you joined the squad?”

“That tridents are an underrated weapon?”

“After that.” Danny rolls her eyes again, smiling.

“That we could do anything.”

“Exactly. We're top squad, you're the Perfect Score, you have your pick of everything.”

“I said I'd think about it.”

Danny's opened her mouth to respond when Perry cuts in. “She's here.”

Laura puts her newspaper back in her bag and turns around, raising her binoculars to peer down at the floor. It takes her a moment to find Carmilla. “Wow.”

“Wow what?” Danny says, looking away from her own binoculars.

Laura suppresses a blush and searches for the right words. “She's just so... I didn't expect... it's just weird to see her for myself. She's such a legend, you know? I can't believe she's real.” The truth is that Carmilla is striking – cheekbones and jawline so sharp they could cut glass, dark eyes framed by dark hair. Laura shakes herself. This woman is a villain, a murderer.

“Shhhh,” Perry hisses, raising the listening device so she can position it better. “There's a lot of interference already.”

Danny and Laura exchange glances before returning their attention to the restaurant below.

* * *

The restaurant across the street looks reasonably busy, with lights glowing through the windows and soft voices drifting out the open door. The cars lining the sidewalk are so nice it's hard for Carmilla to convince herself not to abandon the whole date idea and just steal one instead. At least three of them are worth well over a hundred thousand dollars.

“Do I have to?” she asks, turning to Lafontaine.

“Yes,” they say, giving her a stern look. “You can hold entire countries hostage, you can steal a million dollars in ten minutes, you can go on one blind date.”

“Then why am I so scared?”

“Love is harder than crime,” Lafontaine says with a shrug. “Knock 'em dead.”

Carmilla glares at them before reaching for the door.

“Not really!” they amend, as it slams shut behind her.

The restaurant is wide, airy, three stories of seats and an entire army of suited waiters moving silently between tables. The host bows and smiles as she says, “For Elsie?” then follows him across the floor. Their table is in the center of the room, or close to, and Carmilla glances around a little anxiously. It's too exposed for her liking, but there's nothing she can do about it now. Hopefully Lafontaine had the place thoroughly cased, though Carmilla reminds herself hastily that she has no idea how anyone would know she's back. And everything's been very quiet from what she can tell.

“Hello,” she says, as the waiter pulls back her chair. The woman sitting across from her looks up from the menu to smile. Elsie is dazzlingly pretty, Carmilla has to admit it.

“Hello,” Elsie replies, watching Carmilla sit.

“I'm sorry I'm late.”

“No no,” she assures Carmilla quickly, leaning forward. “I got here early. An old habit from my intelligence training.”

“Oh good,” Carmilla says, a little unsure of the expected reaction.

“Anything to drink?” the waiter asks, and Carmilla looks up at him gratefully.

“Wine?” She looks across at Elsie, who nods. “Wine,” she repeats more forcefully to the waiter, who makes a note on his pad before disappearing.

There's a moment of awkward silence before Carmilla says, “So you're an intelligence agent?”

“Former, intelligence agent,” Elsie corrects. “Background in hacking, infiltration. Right now I'm mostly working as an assassin. Hard times and all that.”

“How does that work?” Now Carmilla's genuinely a little curious, and she leans forward slightly.

“It's mostly freelance,” Elsie says. “Odd jobs here and there.”

“So you just kill whoever?”

“Yeah,” Elsie says, picking up her knife and twirling it between her fingers. “It's always interesting. This one time, I was asked to kill this guy who...  
Carmilla tunes her out. The last thing she needs is to get sick before dinner while her date describes torturing and killing someone. The waiter appears with two glasses of wine so white Carmilla would almost swear it's water. Two seconds later he's back with soup, which Carmilla assumes is the first course of the meal for tonight. She picks up her spoon just for something to do with her hands, but Elsie's voice is a lot more difficult to drown out than Carmilla anticipated.

“I'm not feeling well,” she says suddenly, making a face.

Elsie stops talking, then glares at her. “Are you blowing me off?”

“No, no!” Carmilla says quickly, but Elsie looks unconvinced. Carmilla looks down at her soup just as something splashes into it. She fishes it out with her spoon, frowning, then looks up.

* * *

“What're they talking about?” Danny asks as Perry listens intently through her headphones.

“Killing. Who to kill and how to kill,” Perry says.

SJ makes a face. “Gross.”

“You're a spy, dipshit,” Danny says. “You've been trained to kill from day one.”

“Doesn't make it not gross.” SJ glares at Danny.

“Hey girls,” comes a voice from behind them, and all four of them whirl around, pulling out their guns. Will doesn't move, but Kirsch puts his hands up with a grin. “Woah, woah, it's just me.”

“What are you doing here?” SJ asks, holstering her gun.

“Just here to talk,” Kirsch says. “To you.”

“I don't want to talk to you.”

“Can you just come here, for just a moment?” SJ stiffens her jaw, but follows him away from the group. Will steps forward to lean beside Laura as she and Danny turn around and look back down at Carmilla.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Danny asks, and Will gives her a charming grin and shrugs.

“Everyone's on to Karnstein. The DHS, the FBI.” He points around the room as he names each organization. Small clusters of people perch in different places, their own listening devices attached to their ears. “And us, of course.” This time he points proudly to the CIA logo on his vest.

“Get out, this is our operation,” Danny snarls.

“You guys are always sticking your nose in our business. You're unbelievable,” Laura says.

“Hey, the DEBS don't have a monopoly on supervillains.” Will glances back down at the table, where Carmilla and Elsie are still deep in conversation.

“This is still our op,” Laura says. She raises her binoculars again and peers down at Carmilla. Once again, Laura has to remind herself that no matter what Carmilla looks like, she's still a dangerous criminal.

Kirsch and SJ's voices are becoming clearer as their conversation escalates, and Danny whirls on them. “Shut up!”

“Get out of here,” SJ says. As Laura and Will look over, she shoves Kirsch, then turns to join her squad. Laura quickly looks around, pretending that she wasn't watching.

Kirsch, however, does not get out. Instead he follows SJ back, stage whispering something about how she owes him back his bracelet and his father got that when he graduated.

Laura tries very hard not to listen to them, instead focussing on watching Carmilla three stories below. It's difficult to concentrate over their argument.

“Fine, here,” SJ says finally, and Laura looks over at them. They're both reaching for her wrist, for the clasp of the silver bracelet there. Like in slow motion, Kirsch's fingers fumble, grasp, and the bracelet slips through into empty space. She watches it descend, spinning, and land directly in Carmilla's soup.

Everybody freezes, watching her, waiting to see if she'll look up and discover them. They're not in exactly the most hidden of places, but people so rarely look above them that they'd considered themselves safe.

Carmilla pokes at the bracelet with her spoon, then looks up. Her face falls in shock and she reaches around, going for what is presumably a weapon. Laura and her entire squad draw their weapons in unison, and half a second later Carmilla has six guns trained on her from above. She freezes. And then there's a sound like a gunshot. Or like the cork popping out of a bottle of champagne. Beside her, Kirsch jerks involuntarily and Laura sees as well as hears his gun go off, shattering a champagne flute in the restaurant below.

Everything erupts into pandemonium.

 


	2. It's On Me

People run screaming in every direction, trying to find out where the shot came from and how to get away. Tables are overturned and dishes go flying, shattering against the floor. Carmilla ducks behind her chair, pulling her gun out of her jacket pocket. Elsie does the same as she drops to the floor and looks around.

The air fills with more shots, and Carmilla watches the DEBS descend from their perch on the third floor, guns blazing. From a purely aesthetic point of view, they pull off the badass look very well. From her point of view though, they're nothing but trouble in plaid skirts. She looks around the table, then fires off three shots. For a second, the DEBS stop shooting and Carmilla takes the opportunity to dash across the room and leap over the bar. She hardly notices Elsie beside her until the spy fumbles her landing, knocking both of them to the ground.

“Watch it!” Carmilla scrambles back to her feet, crouching with her back against the bar. Thankfully her finger had _not_ been on the trigger, or one of them would probably be dead.

“Sorry,” Elsie says, pulling her own gun out of her purse. “Why are you blowing me off?” she asks as the shots resume.

Carmilla searches through her pockets, trying to come up with a response. She knew she had it.... there! She pulls the pin out of the smoke bomb and tosses it over the bar. The DEBS are army crawling towards her and she grins as the bomb lands right in front of them.

“I'm just not ready for this, I'm sorry,” Carmilla says, checking her clip as she ducks behind the bar again.

“Ready for what? It doesn't have to be a relationship,” Elise says, checking her own.

“I know, it's just-”

“Just what?”

Suddenly there's a shriek and an explosion from behind them. The air fills with smoke and Carmilla begins counting in her head. The smoke will only last so long. “I'm just not interested, I'm sorry.”

Elise glares at her before slipping her gun back into her purse. “Sorry to have wasted your time then,” she says coldly, before turning and sneaking around the corner of the bar towards the door.

Carmilla rolls her eyes before she peeks around the other corner. The room is filling with smoke and she takes a deep breath of clean air before dashing out from behind the bar, heading for the back exit.

“There!” someone shouts, and suddenly bullets are raining down on her again. It's a bad decision, she knows, but she doesn't stop running. They haven't hit her yet, and she just hopes her luck will hold on. It almost does; as she yanks the door open, something hot grazes her arm and she jerks around, slamming the door shut behind her. Her arm isn't bleeding that badly, and Carmilla's seen worse, so she ignores it, instead heading across the back parking lot towards the neighboring warehouse.

* * *

Laura ducks behind a pillar just as the smoke bomb goes off. She flinches. Trust someone like Carmilla Karnstein to put a detonator in a smoke screen. White smoke begins to billow up from the floor as Laura looks back around, searching for her target. A vague shape darts up from behind the bar and Laura raises her weapon before realizing that it's Elsie. She turns back around, searching for more shapes in the smoke. Elsie is a threat, yes, but she's not the mission. Carmilla is.

There's movement around her as the rest of her team reassembles. They're joined by the other teams, Kirsch and Will taking knees and raising their guns as they look for a body to shoot. It's simultaneously frustrating and wonderful – this mission was supposed to be just the DEBS, but given Carmilla's record it's kind of reassuring to have them there.

There's movement, and through the thickening smoke something moves away from the bar and towards the back exit. Someone shouts and around her people begin firing, the sounds deafening. Laura keeps her own gun silent. They're shooting blind; the smoke is too thick to actually see anything, much less a smallish person running at full speed.

They hear rather than see the back door open, and there's a flurry of shouting as the other teams disperse to look for Carmilla.

“Laura!” Danny calls, and Laura turns to join her squad, fuzzy through the smoke. “Okay we're going to try to cut her off,” Danny says, looking around at them. “SJ, Laura, you go out the back, check the warehouse and the parking lot. Perry and I will go around the front. There's not too many places she can go. Keep your earpieces on. We don't want to lose contact with each other.”

“JP told us that we're not supposed to engage her,” SJ protests. She seems to shrink when Danny turns hard eyes on her.

“SJ, I'm in charge, you do as I say.”

“But JP-” She stops talking as Danny waves an impatient hand in front of her.

“If you really don't think you can handle this, feel free to stay here and babysit the empty restaurant. The rest of us have a job to do.” Danny looks over at Laura. “You got this?”

Laura nods, then reaches for SJ's arm. “C'mon,” she says, tugging on her.

As SJ and Laura turn towards the back door, where Carmilla had been mere seconds before, Danny and Perry head for the front. The parking lot is mostly empty, and the smell of burning rubber lingers in the air. It's pretty clear that the employees had bolted the instant they could, and Laura doesn't really blame them. She looks around, across the parking lot, then over at the neighboring warehouse.

“SJ, you take the parking lot,” she says. “Check around the side of the building too, make sure she's not holing up there.”

SJ shifts nervously, running her thumb along the trigger guard of her gun. “Okay,” she says, voice shaking.

“Hey.” Laura reaches out again to touch her shoulder. “You got this.” She waits for SJ to nod before saying, “Earpiece on?”

SJ reaches up to touch the little device in her ear. “Earpiece on.”

“Good. Call if you need anything.” And with that Laura dashes for the doors to the warehouse, checking her own earpiece as she goes. She doesn't wait to see what SJ does, though Laura hopes she's following orders.

The inside of the warehouse is colder than the outside by what feels like twenty degrees but is probably closer to five. Laura creeps along between stacks of barrels and crates, her steps echoing off the ceiling back down at her, making it feel like there are ten other invisible people with her in the warehouse. The place is a maze, and she picks paths at random, without knowing exactly how else to make decisions. She checks her gun as she takes another nervous step. So far there's been nothing, no sign that Carmilla ever came through here.

“SJ?” she hisses, but her earpiece just spits static at her. Something in the warehouse is interfering with her communication and she grits her teeth in frustration. As Laura turns the next corner she almost determines that she's going to give up and go back but there, at the end, is an illuminated door. This is exactly the type of thing she's looking for.

Laura heads towards it, abandoning the majority of her caution as she speeds up. If Carmilla did come through here, then she's probably already out that door and gone. The door is twenty feet, ten feet, then suddenly someone crashes into Laura and she stumbles to the floor.

“Oh my god I'm so sorry,” she says, sitting up and pushing the hair out of her eyes.

“No it's on me,” says the other girl and Laura looks up at her.

“Oh my god,” she breathes, eyes going wide as her heart begins to beat so fast she's afraid she'll pass out.

“Oh shit,” says Carmilla, and in unison they reach for their guns and stand up, barrels pointed at one another's heart.

“You're Carmilla Karnstein,” Laura says, for lack of anything else.

“And you're a DEB,” Carmilla spits back, disdain written all over her face.

Laura swallows, trying to remember her training. “You have the right to remain silent,” she begins, keeping her voice steady.

“You're reading me my rights?” Carmilla asks in disbelief.

“Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law,” Laura continues. She takes a deep breath. “You have the right to an attorney. If you cannot afford one, one will be provided for you.” By the time she's finished Carmilla's eyebrows are so high they're almost disappearing into her hairline.

“You finished?” she asks.

“Yes.” Laura doesn't know exactly what to do after this. She'd always thought she'd have her suspect in custody instead of at gunpoint when she read them their rights, but it's been clear from the instant Carmilla reached for her gun that she won't just give up because Laura's made an official statement. Standing here feels a little different than she imagined it. A lot different, actually. Carmilla doesn't move, and Laura can see in her eyes that she's thinking about shooting.

“Okay here's the thing,” she says quickly, before Carmilla makes up her mind.

“Yeah?”

“I'm really not up for dying today.”

“Me neither,” Carmilla says, surveying her.

“So you should put your gun down.”

“Why don't _you_ put _your_ gun down?” Carmilla slings back, almost faster than Laura can finish her sentence.

“Look, you're the criminal, and I'm the cop and I think that makes me at least a little more trustworthy than you.”

Carmilla rolls her eyes without moving her gun, and Laura's eyes dart between the barrel of the gun and Carmilla's sarcastic expression. “Oh please. You guys were the ones who started all this, I was just minding my own business on some stupid blind date when _you_ decided to rain shit all over me.”

Something seems off, and it takes a moment for Laura's brain to click. “Wait,” she says, her gun wavering as the realization hits. “You were on a blind date?”

“So?” Carmilla glares at her, like this is a challenge.

“With that spy?”

“Whatever,” Carmilla mutters. She looks away for a couple seconds, then back. “What?” she snaps.

“Oh nothing!” Laura says, gathering herself. “I just didn't know.” The girl in front of her somehow looks completely different now that she knows this, and she lowers her gun slowly.

“And why the hell would you know that?” Carmilla asks, lowering her gun as well. For a second they stand and stare at each other.

“I just... I've read all the research on you and there's nothing about any of that.”

“New question, why the hell have you read all the research on me?”

“I'm writing a paper on you.”

“You have _got_ to be joking.”

“No no,” Laura says, smiling at Carmilla's clear disbelief. “It's my end of year term paper. We're supposed to pick a topic and I'm writing a psychological examination of criminality. Focussing on you.”

“That's ridiculous.”

“But it's hard. It's not like we have a lot of data on you. Everything's anecdotal. Nobody's actually ever spoken to you.”

The disbelief fades from Carmilla's face as she talks and by the time she's finished Laura feels incredibly self conscious. After a second Carmilla raises her eyebrows and says, “Until now.”

“Right,” Laura says quietly. “Until now.” It strikes her suddenly that there's a reason nobody's ever spoken to Carmilla and it's that if they do they invariably wind up dead, but Carmilla looks less than threatening standing directly in front of her. Or at least not threatening in that way.

“I'm sorry, I didn't catch your name,” Carmilla says, giving Laura a once-over.

“Oh, I'm Laura,” Laura says, tucking her gun under her arm and reaching out for a handshake. “Laura Hollis. DEBS, Sector 1.” Carmilla's hand is cool beneath her fingers and she releases it quickly. Whatever it is she feels when Carmilla touched her is certainly not what she should be feeling upon encountering a wanted criminal.

“Carmilla Karnstein.”

“It's really nice to meet you,” Laura says. It's surprisingly honest, and not at all what she'd imagined saying if she met Carmilla.

“Likewise.”

Laura doesn't quite know what to do, and Carmilla's eyes have a strange sort of pull about them, and she can't bring herself to look away. She shifts slightly, and the gun digs into the skin of her arm, reminding her why she's there. “Oh, you're still you know, under arrest,” she says, raising her gun to point at Carmilla again.

“Really?” Carmilla arches her eyebrows.

There's the sound of a door slamming open and then SJ's frantic voice. “Laura!”

“You could just let me go,” Carmilla suggests.

Laura shakes her head. “I really can't do that.”

“Oh come on. Haven't you ever done anything you're not supposed to?”

Suddenly Laura is acutely conscious of her uniform and her status as the Perfect Score. Breaking the rules is outside of her experience. She's been taught since she was young that rules are made to be followed and part of her, egged on by this strange, possibly murderous young woman, wants to break them all.

“Laura are you in here?” SJ shouts, and there's an approaching sound of footsteps, and not just one pair.

“I'm right here,” Laura says, looking over her shoulder. If she looks at Carmilla again she might give in and that absolutely cannot happen.

“Oh there you are,” SJ says, skidding around a corner with Perry and Danny right behind her. “What's up with your gun?”

“What do you-” Laura begins, but when she looks back around, Carmilla's vanished. A ghost. Like she'd never been there at all. “Son of a bitch.”

“Are you okay?” Danny asks, panting and out of breath. “We couldn't reach you!”

“I'm fine,” she says, turning to face them. “Really.”

“There's something going on with the comms, and I got worried.”

“What happened?” Perry looks with concern at Laura.

“She was here. Carmilla Karnstein was here.”

The looks on their faces are comical, mouths drop open and eyes widen with surprise. Perry's the first one to find her voice. “That's... not possible.”

“How is it that you're alive? Are you sure it was her?” Danny asks.

Frustration gathers in the pit of Laura's stomach. Do they think she's three? That she wouldn't recognize Carmilla when she saw her? “Of course I'm sure,” she says angrily. “I wouldn't have said it if I wasn't sure. Don't you guys trust me?”

“Of course of course,” Danny says. “It's just that... you should be dead right now.”

SJ looks around like something is going to leap out from behind a stack of crates. “Guys?” she says, stepping forward and reaching for something right beside where Carmilla had been standing. When they all lean forward, she raises up a red stone with the letters _CK_ carved in the front. Laura takes it from her gently, running a finger over the surface. These have popped up in legends about Carmilla – the rest of her family was into diamonds but when she took control, the trend turned towards rubies. At least until she disappeared. But Laura had always thought it was just a story, an exaggerated version of people's experiences, told so they'd be more striking. She never thought she'd ever see one, much less actually hold it.

“Oh my god,” Perry says under her breath.

“Do you know what this means?” Danny asks, her eyes shifting from the stone to Laura. “You are the only person ever to encounter Carmilla Karnstein and survive.”

* * *

Carmilla waits for ten minutes after the DEBS leave before sliding out from behind the crates. She'd seen the slot when Laura's gun was pointed at her, and all it had taken was a second of distraction for her to dart into it and tuck herself behind the shadows of the crates. The ruby had been a spur-of-the-moment decision. Probably a bad idea, but what's done is done.

Even though the DEBS are gone, Carmilla still moves cautiously. Finally she peeks around the door. The parking lot is dark and mostly empty, but when she steps out of the warehouse, a pair of lights flash from the far corner and she recognizes her car.

Lafontaine starts the engine almost before Carmilla gets in, then pulls out of the parking lot. There are police cars at the front of the restaurant, but no lines set up yet, and Carmilla scrunches down until they've rounded the corner and are headed away, towards safety.

“What a disaster,” Lafontaine says, slamming their hand against the steering wheel.

Carmilla sits up, checking the rearview before getting comfortable. It wasn't as big of a disaster as it could have been, she tells herself. Though that's probably not true from Lafontaine's point of view. And especially won't be true once they find out what Carmilla's thinking.

“You can't even be in town for a week before everyone's all over you getting in your business and sticking their noses where they don't belong.” They take a deep breath. “I am so sorry.”

Carmilla doesn't respond, but plays with her fingers before glancing up at them.

“What?”

“It's nothing.”

Lafontaine rolls their eyes. “I know what nothing is, and that is not nothing. Carmilla, what's up?”

She takes a moment before saying, “I met somebody.”

Lafontaine's eyes go wide before they grin. “I knew it! See, she wasn't all that bad. You can't go around judging people for their former professions-”

“Elsie was a train wreck, thank you,” Carmilla says, cutting them off.

“I don't follow.”

“You're not allowed to freak out.” Carmilla affects her best I'm-the-boss look, but Lafontaine only raises their eyebrows.

“Why would I freak out.”

“Sometimes you can get a little overprotective.”

“I'm not overprotective, just tell me what you're talking about.”

“Okay.” Carmilla takes a deep breath. She knows she's about to turn everything upside-down, but she can't just not say anything. “What do you know about Laura Hollis?”

Carmilla watches Lafontaine put the pieces together, then look over at her like they can't believe what's happening. “Please tell me she doesn't wear a plaid skirt.” All it takes is an involuntary smile and Lafontaine slams on the brakes so hard the wheels screech against the pavement. “She's a DEB!”

“I know,” Carmilla says, but Lafontaine talks right over her.

“Not only is she a DEB but she's _the_ DEB. She's the Perfect Score.”

“What the hell does that mean?” Carmilla's actually truly taken aback this time.

“Laura Hollis is the only person _ever_ to get a perfect score on the test,” Lafontaine explains, frustration still evident on their face.

“What test?”

Now it's Lafontaine's turn to be taken aback. “You really don't know?”

“Just spit it out.”

“The DEBS are chosen via a secret test in the SAT. People who do well on it go to the Academy where they're turned into spies. How do you not know this?”

“It's your job to know things and my job to steal things and take over the world.”

Lafontaine won't allow themself to be distracted, narrowing their eyes at Carmilla. “Nobody's gotten a perfect score, not in the history of the DEBS, until Laura Hollis.”

Carmilla rolls her eyes. “Give me the keys.”

“No! Have you even been listening to me?”

Carmilla reaches across for them, but instead Lafontaine turns the car on and pulls away. Even Carmilla's not reckless enough to attack them in a moving car.

“I've been listening,” Carmilla says. “Pull over and give me the keys.”

“She's their pride and joy she is _literally_ their poster child.”

“Their poster child doesn't know it yet, but she's into me.”

Lafontaine gives Carmilla a look of shocked disbelief, like they can't imagine that _anyone_ would be so stupid.

“You're ridiculous. She will kill you, if she gets the chance.”

“She didn't tonight.”

“A fluke,” Lafontaine says, glancing over at her. She glares out the window at the passing houses, refusing to look at them. “You can't do this.”

Carmilla watches her reflection in the glass. “I can do anything I want.”

* * *

By the time they get back to their house it's almost midnight. The rest of her squad spent the entire ride back quizzing Laura on her encounter with Carmilla, but really all she wants to do is take a shower and go to sleep. As if her night wasn't already complicated enough, the house phone rings the instant they walk through the door.

“Hey JP,” Danny says as she picks it up. There's a brief pause, then she lowers the handset and pushes the speaker button.

“We heard about the incident tonight on your mission.”

“That wasn't our fault,” Perry says immediately. “We just got pulled in.”

“You'll need to send in your statements by tomorrow noon at the latest. All of you will be debriefed on Monday, first thing. Don't be late.”

“We won't,” Danny says, looking straight at Laura. “Hey JP, I think you should know that Laura survived an encounter with Carmilla Karnstein. Like a real live encounter.”

A moment of silence, then JP's voice comes back, slightly shaky. “Well that's. That's something. I'll let the Dean know immediately and we'll get back to you. Good night.”

“Good night,” they chorus back, and the line goes dead.

“We should all get some rest,” Danny says. “It's been a long night.”

SJ nods. “Dibs on the shower,” she says as she heads for the stairs.

“There are three bathrooms,” Perry says, watching her go. She turns to Laura. “I'm really glad you survived.”

“Thanks.”

Perry follows SJ up the stairs, but neither Danny nor Laura move.

“You sure you're okay?” Danny asks, stepping forward and putting a hand on Laura's shoulder. “That's gotta be intense.”

“Yeah, I'm fine.” Or at least if she's not, it's not in the way Danny might think.

“You go shower,” Danny says. “I'm gonna start on the mountain of paperwork we're going to have to do.”

“Thanks.”

Carmilla's words repeat over and over in Laura's head as she showers and climbs into her pyjamas. Carmilla had been so completely unexpected. Snarky, sarcastic, but not ruthless. Not a cold-blooded killer. If she was, Laura would be lying dead on the floor of the warehouse instead of standing in front of the microwave waiting for her hot chocolate to finish heating up. She pads down the hall in her socks and curls up on couch in the front room, staring out the window. The world is dark and silent, all of their neighbors' lights are off and their cars are parked quietly in their drives.

Carmilla's face swims into the forefront of Laura's mind. The little grin, the raised eyebrows, the inscrutable stare as Laura introduced herself. Laura tightens her grip on the warm ceramic of her mug, trying to forget how Carmilla's fingers had felt, held in her own.

Laura shakes herself out of her daze and puts her now empty cup in the sink before climbing up the stairs to her own room. She puts the ruby gently on top of her dresser, thumb tracing the letters. All of a sudden every part of her feels heavy and tired, and she collapses gratefully into her bed, pulling the covers up around her.

“She's a supervillain,” she whispers to herself. “She's evil.” But Carmilla hadn't looked evil, and that was the most confusing part of the entire encounter.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so glad y'all like it! I try not to write notes too often but this one is here to let you know that I'm swapping some things around from the original story. I know it kinda seems like it's word for word right now and maybe a little bit for the next chapter also but it will deviate I promise. So it's like I'm building my own house on a DEBS foundation rather than building the same house and painting it a different color. After all, it's the creation and the mystery that's fun, yea? And we will get there.


	3. Be My Guest

The bandage around Carmilla's upper arm has been wound so tight it it almost hurts. She looks down at her hand and wiggles her fingers, testing them. They feel a little disconnected and she tugs at the white wrapping irritably.

“Stop that,” Lafontaine says from across the room, never looking away from their computer screen.

“How do you do that?” Carmilla asks, glaring over at them from where she lies on the couch.

“I just do.”

She returns to staring at the ceiling, trying not to let herself pull at the bandage again. Instead, she thinks about Laura. A DEB. Carmilla doesn't get along very well with the other law enforcement agencies, but with the DEBS it's different. They've been after her for as long as she can remember, especially since her parents died. And now Laura, who is writing a paper on her. Training girls specifically in how to defeat Carmilla seems like a little bit of a stretch, and Carmilla wonders exactly how much information they have on her.

“What're you thinking about?” Lafontaine asks, in that voice that means they know exactly what she's thinking about. They roll their chair over to look down at Carmilla.

“Nothing.”

“You're thinking about that girl,” Lafontaine says. “You have been all day.”

This is mostly true, so Carmilla doesn't protest. Her silence says as much as her words would, and Lafontaine groans, running a hand through their short hair.

“She's a DEB! You can't let white blouses and short skirts distract you from the fact that she has been trained to kill you.”

“It's not her clothes,” Carmilla mumbles.

“Okay, symmetrical face, straight teeth, washed hair, blue eyes, pretty smile, whatever it is, it doesn't matter.”

“Her eyes are brown.” This Carmilla remembers very clearly, from the way Laura had watched her, had stared straight into her eyes like she wasn't afraid. Not a whole lot of people do that anymore; she has the type of reputation that usually scares people into avoiding eye contact.

“You are getting caught up in meaningless technicalities,” Lafontaine says. “The fact that she didn't kill you once doesn't mean anything. She could have frozen, or forgotten what to do, or a million other things.”

“That's not what it was like,” Carmilla says, sitting up and running her fingers through her hair. She tugs on the bandage again, then drops her hand to her lap when Lafontaine gives her a warning look. “She was different.”

“They're all different until they're tossing you into a prison cell. You were very stressed last night. Stressed people don't think clearly. You can't let emotions get the better of you.”

“When have I ever done that?”

Lafontaine raises their eyebrows. “You disappeared for three years after your girlfriend broke up with you. You _still_ won't go out on a date without complaining endlessly.”

“I'd go out with her without complaining.”

“Like that's going to happen. Look, you met her last night. It hasn't even been twenty-four hours. Give it at least forty-eight before you let this mad crush run away with you. It'll play itself out, you'll see.”

The words bounce right off her. Carmilla doesn't want to wait forty-eight hours. She doesn't even really want to wait another two to see Laura again, and she checks her watch. Maybe she doesn't have to wait another two hours.

“Oh no,” Lafontaine says as they catch sight of her face. Carmilla ignores them, standing up and stepping towards the stairs that will take her down into her garage. Lafontaine follows her, snatching up their gun as they pass the desk.

“No, stop. What are you doing?”

Carmilla pushes the door at the bottom of the stairs open, Lafontaine two steps behind her. She looks at each car in turn. For some reason none of them seem right, none of them seem to send the message Carmilla wants to send. Even though she's not sure what it is, she knows what it's not. She walks pensively along the rows, then stops in front of a car, running her hand across the scarlet hood. Yes, this one.

“Carm,” Lafontaine says as she turns around to snatch the key off the wall. “What are you doing?” they repeat, but there's something in their voice that's a little flatter than it had been.

This time Carmilla does turn around and acknowledge them, raising her eyebrows. “What?”

“Where are you going?”

Carmilla looks down at the keys in her hand, turns the cool metal between her fingers. “Back. I'm going back.”

“No you are not,” Lafontaine says, stepping in front of her.

“Get out of my way.”

Something in Carmilla's voice makes Lafontaine step aside and let her reach for the handle. “Carmilla please.”

“You're not gonna stop me,” Carmilla says as she opens the door and slides in.

“What the....” Lafontaine throws their hands up, then runs them through their hair in agitation. “Carmilla!”

The engine purrs itself into life and Carmilla sighs as she runs her hands across the smooth leather of the wheel. Yes, this. This is what she wants. “Either come with me, or stay here, but you're not stopping me.”

Lafontaine hesitates for a moment, then walks over to open the passenger side door. “I have no idea what you think you're doing,” they say as they settle back into the seat.

Carmilla looks over at them, her teeth bared in a grin. “I'm getting back out there.”

“This isn't what I meant!” Lafontaine growls. Carmilla hits the garage sensor and the door opens, cool night air washing over them as she rolls the windows down. “And really, Carmilla, a Cadillac?”

“A _vintage_ Cadillac,” Carmilla corrects them.

“It's too flashy. We're going to get noticed.”

Carmilla puts the car in reverse and backs out, her headlights lighting up the darkened road in front of her. “Isn't that kind of what I'm going for?”

* * *

 “Here's the last of it,” Laura says, dumping the stack of paper on the coffee table and collapsing into one of the chairs. “God, that took forever.”

“Are you sure you recorded all of it? Every detail?”

“Yes,” she says, watching the fan whirl above them.

“I just want to check,” Danny says, and Laura hears her rifling through the pages. “We can't leave anything out.”

“Everything's important,” Perry adds, from where she sits in the window seat, her codebook in her hand. Of course, Perry had been the first one to finish her paperwork, and SJ was still bent over the kitchen table. “And make sure that you bring the ruby to the Academy on Monday. The Dean will want to see it.”

“I will shoot both of you.”

“Sorry, no, I trust you,” Danny says, and Laura glances over at her. She's arranged the papers neatly across the table, the only empty spot for SJ's. “How's it going?” Danny calls over her shoulder.

They can hear SJ sigh from the other room, then a _thunk_ as she probably lays her head on the table. “If I'd known it took this much paperwork to be a spy, I would have gone to art school.”

“We were supposed to have this done by noon. It's almost five,” Danny says back. “We have to finish it.”

“If JP wants me to do this after what happened last night, he can come over and do it himself,” SJ says, but they hear the sound of her pen against paper again.

Laura sighs and returns her gaze to the fan. “Paperwork sucks.”

“Tell me about it.” Laura hears the couch rustle and she can imagine Danny's long body stretched out along it. “Being squad leader can suck.”

“Oh please, you love it.”

“I do.” Danny's smile is audible, and it makes Laura grin. “Hey, are you okay?” Danny asks, poking Laura.

Laura looks down and shoves Danny's foot away with her own. “Stop that. And yes, I'm fine. Just.... meeting her was.... something else.” Normally, Danny is the person Laura would talk to about problems, but this one she has to keep to herself. Or at least she can't share it with anyone in the DEBS, and she knows that her phone calls are monitored, so calling her father is out of the question also. When she really thinks about sharing this with Danny, it feels weird, and not just in a Carmilla-is-an-internationally-feared-supervillain-you-should-not-be-this-confused way, but in a personal, awkward way. Even if she _could_ talk to Danny about Carmilla, she's not sure that she would.

“You've been kind of out of it today. And last night. Did something else happen?”

“No, no,” Laura says, sitting up and making an effort to at least look less out of it than she feels. “Really, it's just all hitting me.”

“Do you want to watch a movie or something? Once SJ's finished with her paperwork.” Danny says the last part a little louder, to make sure that it's clear who it's directed to.

“Last page, I promise.”

“Sure,” Laura says, brushing the hair out of her eyes. Maybe that will distract her enough, so she stops reliving the whole conversation.

It takes SJ another three minutes to finish her own paperwork, then another twenty after Danny calls JP for the agent to arrive and pick it up. Laura stays sitting down the whole time, alternately staring at the ceiling fan and reassuring everyone that she's okay.

“What do you want to watch?” Danny asks, once the door has closed behind the agent. “Battlestar Galactica?”

The corners of SJ's mouth turn down. “Can we watch something less violent?”

Laura listens without engaging. She doesn't particularly care what they watch, and curls up on the couch beside Danny as they finally settle on a movie. She hardly even registers what's going on, watching the lights flash in front of her, the story play out across a screen she's not really seeing. She only snaps into awareness when Danny nudges her.

“Hey,” she says, and Laura looks around, realizing that the movie's over.

“Oh, hey, sorry.”

“Want to watch something else?” Danny asks, and Laura nods, determined this time to actually watch it. “Battlestar Galactica it is then.”

SJ groans and stands up. “I'm not gonna sit here with you two nerds. Even homework is better than watching robots kill people in space.”

“They're cylons,” Danny responds. “But whatever. You're missing out on some of the greatest TV ever made. Your loss.”

SJ sticks her tongue out at them as she leaves, and Danny silently flips through to Netflix and hits the _play_ button. Laura tries to relax as the familiar opening plays, tries to lose herself in the story she already knows so well. This time it works, and she doesn't even realize how much time has passed until Danny hits _pause_.

“Jeez look at the time.” It's nearing eleven, and as Laura comes into awareness she realizes that she's tucked up against Danny, Danny's arm comfortingly over her shoulder. It feels nice, familiar. “Maybe you should get some sleep,” Danny says, looking down at her.

Laura nods and sits up, extricating herself. “Probably.” She stands, stretching her arms, and gives Danny a small sleepy smile. “You going to sleep?”

Danny shakes her head, running her fingers through her hair and pulling it out of her face. “Nah. I've got reading to do, and I'm not really tired. Advanced Infiltration and Deception Techniquesis kicking my ass.”

Laura makes a face. “I'm not looking forward to that class.”

“I'll lend you my notes,” Danny says with a grin.

Laura laughs. “Thanks. Good night!”

She feels Danny's eyes on her until she rounds the corner, and is relieved when she's finally alone again with her confusing feelings.

* * *

Carmilla pulls the car up across the street from the house, the street lights tinting the asphalt yellow.

“How do you know this is the place?” Lafontaine asks as Carmilla gazes out the window at the building.

“Oooh, now I know something that you don't,” Carmilla says, and Lafontaine makes a face. She turns the engine off and puts her hand on the handle. “Stay in the car,” she says as she pushes the door open.

Lafontaine leans over behind her. “Carmilla, I'm begging you-” they begin, before their voice is cut off by the door slamming shut.

Carmilla slides the key into her pocket as she crosses the street to stand on the sidewalk. The house is nice – two stories, big enough that if it belonged to any other school, Carmilla would have expected twenty students at least to live there, but since this is the DEBS, and since they're Sector 1, only a single squad lives there. Which makes Carmilla's job a lot easier.

“All right DEBS,” she mutters, pulling out her phone. “Let's see what you've got.” Carmilla'd redesigned her phone several years ago, before she ran away to Styria, to detect and describe defense systems. It hasn't failed her yet, and has actually saved her a couple times. The DEBS defenses are the worst she's seen. A force field, and not an effective one, some lasers so close to the ground that a child could step over them, and pretty much nothing else. Carmilla rolls her eyes, almost wishing there were more people in the house. A challenge would be nice.

She finds the edge of the force field, or where her phone says it should be, and moves her hand through the air. It's like glass, a wall under her fingers, and when she touches it, blue lights shoot up the side, revealing its domed shape. Carmilla taps through her phone, finding the tool she wants, then touches the corner of the phone to the force field. The area glows blue, then begins to shimmer before vanishing entirely. Carmilla steps forward, careful not to let go of her phone, then pulls her arm through. The field reforms almost instantly as she moves her hand away.

The lasers are all about knowing where they are, but they're visible red lines laid out in a grid across the perfectly manicured lawn, and what's most worrying is that somebody will see Carmilla moving around in the shadows, rather than her accidentally setting off an alarm.

A ten-foot radius around the house has no alarm of any kind, and Carmilla stands still for a second, looking up the building. Now she has to find Laura. She taps her phone again, then puts it against the wall of the building. Lines begin to spread out, forming themselves into boxes and in thirty seconds she has a full blueprint of the house, with little red figures of people. One person is downstairs, the rest are upstairs, and Carmilla can tell by the size that the downstairs person is that ginger giant. She wrinkles her nose in disdain before looking for a way to the second story.

Unfortunately for the DEBS, whoever designed their house not only put in a wraparound porch, but also put a lattice up against the wall, painted white, with vines curling up only the bottom six feet or so. Carmilla scales it, then swings from the gutter onto the porch roof. She glances across the street at her car, but can't see Lafontaine. They're probably grumping in the passenger seat, asking themself why they ever chose to work for her.

Carmilla grins, then begins to move quietly along the wall, peeking in through windows. The first window is dark, and she sees a sleeping figure in the bed. It's not Laura though – this girl is too tall, so she moves on to the next one, an empty room. Finally, in the far back corner of the house, she sees Laura, lying asleep. Her window is propped open and Carmilla slides in, landing catlike on the floor.

The first thing she notices is her ruby, glittering from the top of Laura's dresser. Carmilla crosses the room to pick it up, then slips it into her pocket. She doesn't really want to kill Laura, but this evidence she can get rid of. Carmilla turns to face Laura's bed, moving to stand beside it. “Laura?” she whispers leaning over. Laura shifts, and Carmilla says again, “Laura?”

Laura's eyes shoot open. “Oh my god!” And then the next thing Carmilla knows, Laura's trying to pin her to the floor. Carmilla twists, shoving Laura off with her foot before jumping up, hands raised.

“Woah, hey I just want to-” Carmilla stops talking as Laura's fist swings towards her and she ducks. “C'mon can't we-” Laura aims a kick at her midsection and she grabs it with both hands, gives it a tug, and then Laura's the one on the ground. Carmilla steps back and lets Laura get back up.

“What're you doing here?” Laura asks once she's standing again, fists still raised.

“I wanted to see you,” Carmilla says with a shrug.

“Why?”

Carmilla almost opens her mouth before realizing that _because you're cute_ is probably not the best way to start this conversation. “I was thinking about your paper,” she says instead.

“My thesis?” Laura's fists sink a little as confusion crosses her face.

“Come out with me, I'll let you ask me anything,” Carmilla says with a smile.

“No!”

“And why not?”

Laura throws her hands up and looks at Carmilla like she's the stupidest person Laura's ever seen. “At least a zillion reasons.” Her eyes dart sideways and Carmilla's follow half a second too late.

“Can we just talk about this?” she asks, once again looking down the barrel of Laura's gun. This time though, she doesn't have her own.

“Absolutely no-”

Carmilla ducks sideways as she reaches up and twists Laura's arm backwards. Her fingers loosen their grip and Carmilla snatches the gun, turning it to face Laura. “Now you have to come with me.”

Laura quickly hides her look of shock under a glare. “And how do you expect to get out of here?”

Carmilla pulls her phone out of her pocket and checks the house blueprint. The downstairs figure is gone, and the rest of the house is clear. “We're going to walk out the front door.”

Laura is mercifully quiet as she leads Carmilla down the stairs and across the foyer of the darkened house. Carmilla pulls the door shut behind them, then nods to Laura, who's paused at the edge of the porch steps.

As Laura reaches the bottom, someone steps around the tree and runs straight into her.

“Oh I'm so sorry I didn't see you there,” the girl says, brushing her hair out of her face.

“No no, it's okay,” Laura replies, and Carmilla can tell she's trying to direct the girl's attention pretty much anywhere else. Her efforts prove fruitless though, as she squints over Laura's shoulder at Carmilla.

“Who's that?” she asks, and Carmilla steps into the light, gun still raised. Laura clamps her hand over the girl's mouth as she starts to scream and instead her eyes widen in shock.

“Shhhh, Perry don't,” Laura says, and Carmilla gestures at both of them with the barrel of the gun.

“Let's get going.”

Having Perry along is inconvenient to say the least, and she tries to think of another way around this. Letting Perry go is not an option, as she'd alert the DEBS and then Carmilla's whole entirely unplanned evening would be ruined. And leaving her somewhere is also not an option, as she needs to be watched to make sure she doesn't call someone. Taking her is the only option Carmilla can think of at the moment.

The shield flashes as they step through it and Carmilla's surprised that it regulates who comes in but not who gets out. She points to her car across the street and the two DEBS walk towards it. The look Lafontaine gives her when she taps on the window would kill a lesser being, but Carmilla just rolls her eyes and opens the door. “You're sitting in the back.”

* * *

Laura crosses her arms and glares resolutely out the front window as Carmilla revs the engine and pulls away from the curb. Laftontaine points the gun at her from the backseat. They drive in silence for a bit before Carmilla speeds onto the freeway. Laura can almost feel Carmilla glance at her.

“Lighten up, buttercup,” Carmilla says, and Laura looks over at her, hoping her face is still flat and emotionless. Carmilla rolls her eyes before looking back at the road.

“Where are we going?” Laura asks, trying to figure out where they even are. The freeway is completely empty of cars.

“Where do you want to go?” Carmilla asks, accelerating into a tunnel. The lights wash her out, and her already pale skin is tinted yellow.

“Home,” calls Perry from the back, and Carmilla gives her a disdainful look.

“If you don't decide, then I will.”

Laura glances over her shoulder at Perry, where she sits beside Lafontaine, who is giving the back of Carmilla's head dagger eyes. Perry raises her eyebrows at Laura.

“My choice then,” Carmilla says, and all of them are thrown to the left as the car swerves off the main tunnel and barrels through a line of orange cones.

“What are you doing?” Laura shouts, righting herself.

Carmilla doesn't respond, just tightening her hands on the steering wheel as the car speeds up. The lights on the wall vanish as the tunnel becomes less developed, the walls jagged rock instead of smooth concrete. The headlights illuminate graffiti, but it flashes by too fast for Laura to see what it is. They round a corner and approach a wall, also graffiti covered. The car doesn't slow down and Laura looks in panic at Perry, then at Carmilla.

“Stop the car! Carmilla!”

Perry shrieks and Laura closes her eyes, waiting for the inevitable crash. Instead she hears loud music, the bass thumping against her ears, the sides of the car, the ground. She peeks out as Carmilla brakes, wheels spinning against dirt.

They're not underground anymore and instead are in a parking lot, or rather a piece of dirt functioning as a parking lot, with cars parked in rows. People lounge on the hoods, smoking or talking or both, and they all watch Carmilla's car, wide eyed. Laura's not surprised; if the car's make and model weren't distinctive, its color certainly made it so. To one side is the source of the bass – a large concrete building, as heavily graffitied as the tunnel, with lights flashing through windows around the top. Across the front is spray painted _The Lustig_.

“You coming?” Carmilla asks as she turns off the car.

“No way.” Laura shakes her head.

“If you're thinking of running away, I'll save you the trouble. These tunnels go on for miles, and you could be lost in there forever.”

“I'm still not going in,” Laura says, trying not to be frustrated that Carmilla had squashed her admittedly obvious plan.

Carmilla shrugs. “Whatever. Suit yourself.” She gestures for Lafontaine to hand her the gun, then opens and empties the clip, sliding the bullets into her pocket. She tosses it onto her seat as she gets out. Lafontaine follows, leaning the seat forward and climbing over it.

Laura narrows her eyes as she watches them cross the lot to the building. She doesn't for a second buy that Carmilla wants to talk about her paper, but given that Laura's still alive, she has no idea what's happening. She'd assumed at first that Carmilla'd shown up to kill her, remove all witnesses to her. Housecleaning, pretty much, though she couldn't have thought why Carmilla would have shown up personally rather than sending a lackey. And now they're at a club, a secret club by the look of it.

Perry leans forward and taps on Laura's shoulder. “What're we gonna do?”

Laura bites her lip. There doesn't seem to be much to do about this. They can't run away, they can't drive the car and even if they could they'd get lost. She glances over at her empty gun. And both she and Perry are weaponless. Through the window she sees a group of people staring at them, smoke curling up from their hands. One of them catches her eye and gives her a wolflike grin. All of his teeth have been filed into points.

“Laura?”

“We're going inside,” Laura says. As untrustworthy as Carmilla is, at least she knows this place and presumably some of these people. That's somewhat more comforting than the look on that man's face.

“What? No!”

Laura ignores Perry and gets out of the car, shivering in her pyjamas. She hadn't expected to be going out when she was going to bed, and her pants and shirt are thin. “I'm not gonna sit in the parking lot,” Laura says. “We have no idea when Carmilla's coming back and our best bet is to keep our eyes on her.”

“She's dangerous,” Perry protests, but when she sees that Laura's not going to change her mind, she leans Laura's seat forward and steps out after her.

The inside of the club is hot, the air thick with sweat and alcohol and smoke. People are packed in so tightly that it's difficult to move through them. On one side is a stage, on which stands a DJ, his hair blue and spiked, looking intently at his computer screen. Colored lights shine down from the ceiling, and blacklights glow over the space in front of the stage, which is where most of the dancing, if it could be called that, is taking place. The opposite side has a bar and tables, and it appears to function as a restaurant, with food and waiters and slightly better lighting. Laura has no idea how they're going to find Carmilla in all of this.

“Now that we're in here, I'm going to find a bathroom,” Perry says, and before Laura can say anything, she's gone, pushing past a couple of very tall people with half-shaved heads and tattoos up their arms.

Laura feels someone's body heat as they lean towards her and whips her head around. Carmilla's standing beside her, looking smug.

“You want something to drink?”

“No.”

Carmilla rolls her eyes, then grabs a couple beers off a passing waiter. “Come on.” She takes hold of Laura's hand and tugs her through the crowd. Once she looks over her shoulder and grins, smiling at the look of discomfort on Laura's face. People part in front of her, making space for her to pass. Carmilla doesn't notice, or at least acts like she doesn't. She approaches a booth in the corner, set off slightly from the rest of the room. The five people crowded into it stand up and hurry aside, and Laura thinks she hears one of them say, “I'm so sorry.”

“Sit down,” Carmilla says once they're gone, sliding in.

Laura sits as well, as far into the corner as she can, so she can see what's going on in the club. Carmilla scoots over until they're sitting barely three feet apart. Laura refuses to move, and she tells herself that it's because she can't let herself be intimidated by this girl, and certainly not because she doesn't really mind that they're close. She turns her beer between her fingers, then takes a sip.

“So you're in Sector 1, huh?” Carmilla says. Laura debates the wisdom of answering for just a moment, but doesn't say anything. “Look, you're going to have to talk to me sooner or later.”

“What do you expect to accomplish by bringing us out here?”

“Oh relax, get over it. Besides, it's not like you're having no fun at all.”

“I'm not,” Laura says, but she's not really sure she means it. It feels more like an adventure than anything else, and Carmilla's still mostly nonthreatening, despite having forcibly kidnapped both Perry and Laura from their government-secured house.

“Right,” Carmilla says skeptically, and Laura looks over at her, for real this time. “Come on, tell me about your paper.”

“Why do you even care?”

“Nobody's ever written a paper on me that I know about. You can call this research or something. It could be mutually beneficial.”

“What do you get out of it?”

Carmilla pauses, thinking. “I get the thrill of having stolen you from the government,” she finally says.

Laura can't prevent herself from laughing a little. “Fine, as long as I'm here I might as well.”

“That's the spirit. Now tell me about it,” she repeats.

“It's stupid, really,” Laura says, running her thumb over the top of the beer bottle before taking another sip.

“You gonna tell me about it or what?”

Laura tries to think back to her paper, gather it all into a single statement. “I guess my thesis is that criminals, in order to commit the crimes that they commit, have to detach themselves entirely from the world and not form close personal bonds. Essentially universal dissociation,” she says, then hesitates, unsure if she should finish.

“Go on.” Carmilla gives her a nod, never moving her eyes away from Laura's.

“I'm using you as an example. I'm hypothesizing that your psyche is a sort of emotional void, where you're incapable of caring about others in any way. Like loving, or being loved.”

“I am not incapable of love!” Carmilla snaps, sitting up.

“I'm sorry, I didn't know.” Laura leans back a little, preparing to run if Carmilla makes a violent move. Maybe this is the ruthless side she hasn't seen yet.

“What the hell would you know about it anyway,” Carmilla says, settling back down.

“Pretty much nothing,” Laura says. “I've been so busy with school and the DEBS and everything. There's not a whole lot of time for dating.”

“Really?” Carmilla looks genuinely surprised. “I'd never have guessed.”

“I mean I've dated a couple people but they never feel right, you know?”

“How?”

“I never loved them. I want to be in love.” Laura catches Carmilla's eye again and blushes. She has no idea why she said all of that, why she's talking about her relationship history with Carmilla Karnstein of all people.

“Isn't it easier sometimes just not to care?” Carmilla asks.

“Now you're talking about my thesis again,” Laura says. “Be careful, or you're going to give me everything I need to prove my hypothesis.”

“Shut up.” Carmilla gives Laura a playful shove, and Laura breaks down laughing at the look on her face.

Laura regains her breath after a minute, rubbing her hands over her face. “This is... weird,” she says.

“Weird how?” Carmilla asks, raising her eyebrows.

“It's just... why aren't you killing me?”

“Why the hell would I do that?”

“Isn't that what you do? You've killed everyone who's ever met you. Nobody lives.”

Carmilla laughs, then quickly gets ahold of herself at the surprised look on Laura's face. “That's not my thing.”

“Then what happened to all those people?”

“I'm just lucky I guess. Frostbite, ebola, plane wrecks, poisonous mushrooms, they all get themselves killed one way or another.”

Laura chooses to believe Carmilla. It's a lot easier and much more reassuring than _not_ believing her would be. “You're not what I expected,” Laura says, looking away, down at her beer bottle.

“Maybe that's a good thing.” Carmilla gives Laura a half smile as she looks up, and for a moment Laura's not sure what else to say. This Carmilla is everything the Academy says she's not.

“Alright then, you've gotta tell me what's up with Elsie.”

“Oh god, talk about someone obsessed with killing.”

“Where even would you find someone like that?”

Laura's not sure how long they talk. The rest of the club fades away until she can't even hear the music anymore. Carmilla, for all her badass exterior, is funny and interesting, and Laura settles into her presence like it's where she belongs.

“So you're really the Perfect Score?” Carmilla asks. “Lafontaine said something about it.”

“Don't call me that. Everybody calls me that. I didn't do anything special, I just took a test.”

“Yeah, and got a perfect score.”

“It doesn't mean anything, and everybody thinks it does,” Laura says, turning more towards Carmilla. “And there's always all this pressure on me to be perfect at everything, ever since I got to the Academy. Everybody expects great things from me.”

“Do you expect great things from you?”

“I don't know,” Laura says in frustration. “I don't know what to expect. All of this just got handed to me, I never wanted any of it. And now everybody's watching and making assumptions.” She sighs. “Sometimes I feel like nobody gets me, like nobody understands me. Do you know what I mean?”

“Creampuff, I'm a supervillain.”

“Right.” Laura looks up at Carmilla, realizing exactly how close they've gotten. The three feet between them has diminished to maybe half a foot, and the way Carmilla's eyes are watching her, it seems like there should be less space. “I'm really glad I met you.”

“Me too.”

For a moment they stare at each other, and it seems like Carmilla might be leaning in. Laura panics and sits up straight. “I should go.”

“What?” Carmilla sounds more than a little frustrated. She doesn't move away though, and Laura can still feel her.

“Am I gonna see you again?” Laura asks, before she can stop herself.

“Do you want to see me again?” Carmilla asks, giving her that half smile again.

Laura shakes her head, reminding herself of the reality of the situation. Not only should she not want to see Carmilla again, but what she's doing is so absolutely not allowed. “I'm breaking like, eight federal statutes already.”

“Yes, I know.”

Laura pauses, letting this sink in. It hadn't quite occurred to her in such concrete terms before. “I could go to prison for this.”

“For what?”

Laura looks over at Carmilla, and this time, when Carmilla leans forward, Laura doesn't pull away.

* * *

Perry feels like a zebra on an iceberg, being in the club. It's absolutely not her scene; she doesn't think she's ever even been to one before. The tabletop looks like it hasn't been wiped down in a month, and she curbs her impulse to clean it. These people are bad people. They don't deserve to have clean tabletops.

“Hey,” someone says, and she jumps, looking up. It's the person from the car, Lafontaine if Perry remembers their name correctly. “Can I sit down?” they ask, and Perry nods, her manners getting the better of her. “I don't believe we've been properly introduced. I'm Lafontaine,” they say, holding out their hand.

“Perry,” she says, taking it gently between her own fingers. She doesn't even want to think about the crimes that hand has committed.

“What brought you along? I know you weren't in the plan.”

“I thought I heard something outside,” she says. Then she grins a little. “I guess I was right.”

Lafontaine laughs and runs their hand through their hair, making it all stand on end. “Guess you were.”

“Not that it's done me any good,” she mutters under her breath, looking around again at the packs of people bouncing to the music. It's very loud, but Perry's found the restaurant to be a bit quieter, if no cleaner.

“Might as well make the most of it while you're here,” Lafontaine says. “How do you feel about pool? Or foosball?”

“Not my thing,” Perry says, shaking her head.

“What about cards then?” Lafontaine asks, pulling a deck out of their pocket.

“On this table?” Perry looks skeptically at the greasy, sticky surface.

“Guess we should get it cleaned.” Lafontaine waves their hand and like out of nowhere a waiter appears with a damp cloth. “Thank you,” they say as the waiter finishes. “Easy as pie. What about now?”

She thinks over all the bad things that could come of this, and decides the benefits outweigh the risks. “Might as well.”

“What do you know?”

“Oh.” Perry hadn't thought of that. “Nothing.”

Lafontaine laughs again, but it doesn't make Perry feel like they're laughing at her. I's more like they're amused by the way everything comes together. “Guess I'll have to teach you then.”

As it turns out, Perry is very good at cards, and eventually hits her stride, winning seven games of Gin in a row. It's a simple enough game that they can talk while they play, but complicated enough not to get boring, and Perry finds that she likes it a lot. Not just that she's winning. And not just talking to Lafontaine.

“I give up!” they finally say, tossing down their cards. “You are unbeatable.”

Perry laughs, gathering all the cards into a pile and straightening the corners. Lafontaine puts their head down on the table and Perry peers over their shoulder. Laura and Carmilla sit in a far corner booth, both looking far more relaxed than Perry ever would have imagined them to be. Carmilla's arm lies along the back of the booth, not quite around Laura, but close enough that it's obviously deliberate.

“Is Carmilla flirting with her?” she asks, more than a little surprised.

Lafontaine sits up and looks over their shoulder. “Yes.”

“What? She's a supervillain. Laura's a spy. What does she think she's doing?”

“I asked her exactly that same question,” Lafontaine says, reaching out to take the cards from Perry. They split the deck in half and then bend the cards together between their fingers, the laminated paper making a wonderful shuffling sound.

“And you let this happen?”

Lafontaine narrows their eyes at her. “I like this less than you do, I promise.”

“We need to do something.”

“Be my guest,” Lafontaine says. They look genuinely surprised when Perry actually stands up, brushing her hair over her shoulders.

“I will.” She marches away, not bothering to look back to check if Lafontaine is following her. She can do this on her own. Perry shoves through a particularly large group of people and emerges directly in front of the table.

“What are you doing?” she asks in shock. Carmilla looks around, and Laura turns her eyes to Perry, then looks between her and Carmilla in panic. “She almost kissed you! And you almost let her!”

Laura doesn't say anything, but slides out of the booth looking upset and pushes past Perry, into the crowd. Carmilla gives her the most withering look she's ever received before following Laura, like Perry's not even worth her words.

“After you,” Lafontaine says, putting one hand on Perry's shoulder. They gesture after Laura and Carmilla, and Perry, still shocked, follows them towards the door.

“Take me home!” Laura shouts at Carmilla, where they stand in the parking lot.

“Creampuff, calm down.”

“Don't call me that. Take me home.”

Perry doesn't think she's ever seen this that mad, not even when SJ stole her entire candy supply, or when Professor Schaffer hadn't given her an extension despite the fact that she'd been on a mission the week it was due.

“Fine, okay,” Carmilla says, putting up her hands.

Laura stomps off towards the car and the other three follow, Carmilla looking thunderously upset, while Perry and Lafontaine exchange glances.

The car ride back is the most silent awkward situation Perry's ever been in. Both Laura and Carmilla look straight ahead, not talking. As they pull off the freeway, Lafontaine touches Perry's shoulder and holds something out to her. She takes it, leaning towards the window so she can read what's written on it.

It's a playing card, the ace of hearts, with a phone number scrawled in sharpie across it. She looks over at Lafontaine and smiles before slipping it into the pocket of her pyjama pants.

Carmilla parks a block down from the DEBS house and Laura's out the instant the car stops moving, walking back down the street. Perry leans the seat forward and gets out after Laura, slamming the bright red door shut behind her.

“Laura, hey,” Carmilla calls, slamming her own door shut. She grabs Laura's shoulder and spins her around. “Can we-”

“Stop,” Laura hisses, yanking her arm away.

“When can I see you again?” Carmilla asks.

“Never! We can't ever do this again. This is over.” Laura turns around and deliberately resumes her walk back to the house. Carmilla glares at Perry as she passes, and Perry tries not to look at her. She waits until she hears the car turn on before saying anything.

“What was that?”

“It was nothing,” Laura says, staring at the ground ahead of her.

“You almost kissed her! You're so into her! And now you're so busted.”

Laura stops and turns to her, still looking angry. “You did just as many illegal things as I did.”

“I absolutely did not,” Perry says. “I didn't almost kiss America's most wanted criminal. DEBS Code of Conduct section 1159.”

“First of all, kissing criminals is not a crime, only associating with them, which you did just as much as me.”

“I did not!” Perry says again, but Laura shakes her head.

“So that's not a card with Lafontaine's number on it?”

“How did you....”

“I'm a spy, that's what I do. And if you tell anyone about this, I'll report you as well. You did everything I did. If they find out, we'll both end up in prison. For the rest of our lives, got it?”

Perry follows Laura as she pushes the front gate open and walks up the path. The force field hums as they pass through it. Laura pauses on the front step and turns to Perry.

“Not a word.”

Perry nods reluctantly, though every piece of her is screaming that this is illegal and needs to be reported. “Not a word.”


End file.
